


Friendship and Home Visits

by AndInThoseMoments



Series: Trust and Teamwork [8]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hospitals, Mission Fic, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndInThoseMoments/pseuds/AndInThoseMoments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint was sent to kill the Black Widow.  Only that isn't what has happened, and he has to try and work out where they stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship and Home Visits

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Shadowhaloedangel for the beta!  
> Sorry about the slow updates, should be much faster now.

Clint wasn't quite sure what had happened to his life over the past few months. He had been meant to kill Romanoff, and had decided against that - he could follow it that far. Then she had become an asset, just like him, a matter of pride for SHIELD. They had managed to save her, to transform her from an assassin to one of their own.

Only that was an oversimplification. Natasha, Clint realised, had never just been a murderer. She had always been something more. She wasn't just a killer, she was the spy archetype, able to bend the world to her whims and return with what was needed. She worked harder than anyone he had ever met, was fluent in a dozen languages, and she was able to hack into computer systems that otherwise they'd have to bring in specialists for.

That far, he could follow. That far, he could understand, and he respected her for that. Only things had changed again, and she had gone from target to colleague to something else entirely - something close to a friend. Clint wasn't sure when it had started. Possibly when she'd risked her life to save him from a gang that had got him surrounded, or maybe when he had woken up to find that she was sat beside him in hospital, not fussing or talking but making sure he was breathing. He didn't know what to make of it, but he found himself wanting to spend more time with her after that.

Perhaps it had been before then. During their first conversation, where she had smiled at him and called him "golub", pigeon... he shook his head. He was meant to be more focused than this. But right now he was watching Natasha walking up to a target, seeing how she attracted his attention with his hand on her arm. Her hand rested on his hip, slipping a tracker into his pocket, helping herself to his wallet. She held it open behind the target, flicking through it out of her own line of sight so that Clint was able to take images of each of the cards within. He snapped off the pictures, not liking having to put his weapon down for more than a few seconds, but at the same time knowing that it was best for him to do it. He had the keenest eyes. He dropped the camera and picked up the weapon again once the photographs were taken, feeling more secure with its familiar weight in his hand.

Natasha returned the wallet to the man's pocket before its absence was noticed, and she was laughing slightly, leaning against him and grinning, he was talking to her, and then she shook her head and walked away.

The target stared after her as she walked through the glass doors and along the corridor.

Natasha ducked into a side room out of Clint's line of sight. Clint knew what she would be doing - shedding her dress and replacing it a moment later with the tight suit that she preferred using for missions. It adapted to her movements, and like his own was made of a fabric that was meant to stop bullets. Plus, Clint doubted it was easy to fight in heels.

When Natasha slipped out of the room again she was wearing the catsuit, a long straight black wig covering her own hair. She walked over to the secondary target, and led him away from the others.

Out of sight of the party, but still visible to Clint, she slammed him against the wall. Her hand found his throat and pressed hard enough to keep him quiet. She reached down, grabbing his phone and the tiny book beside it, then hissing in his ear. Clint couldn't hear the conversation, but the man nodded and Natasha stepped away. 

He opened his mouth to scream and Clint was firing, sending a sedative round from one of SciTech’s new guns crashing into the centre of his chest. The man fell crashing to the ground and Natasha turned and grinned at him before racing away, seeming to scamper up a wall and then clambering onto a fire escape.

"Well done everyone. That's it for today." Coulson praised over comms, and Clint felt post-mission relief flooding through him. He always felt calmer when it was done, when he could walk away and forget about the tension of before. He liked missions, but there was a lot to be said for being able to move.  
Clint packed up his equipment, heading back to the safe house. 

He pushed open the door to find Agent Romanoff already there, checking over the phone and book she had retrieved and calling out figures to Coulson. Clint glanced over, to find that the page was full of unrecognizable squiggles.  
"Chinese?"  
"Korean." Natasha answered. Clint mentally added another language to her skillset, sighing softly at the thought of it. He couldn't help feeling that it was unfair that she could do so much and he knew so little.

Coulson was busy noting down the numbers, examining the pictures that had been on the phone and muttering to himself. Clint stared between them.  
"Anything I can do?"  
"Coffee run." Coulson muttered. Clint snorted but went to the kitchen, making three mugs and returning with them. 

Later that evening, Coulson was working whilst Clint cooked, Natasha carefully slicing the vegetables for him. Clint felt comfortable between the two of them. It was like being at home, he supposed. He'd not had a home before.

A couple of days later the entire mission was successfully wrapped up, with minimal problems. The three of them headed back to base and Clint spent a couple of days on the range, working out the tension in his arms and back. 

"Hey Barton." Natasha's voice came from behind him, making him jump. He had been so lost in the pull and release of arrows that he hadn't even heard her coming up behind him.  
"What?"   
"Hello." Natasha repeated. "I'm going off to work and wanted to check up on you."  
"But..." Clint frowned. "I... I didn't know we had a mission."

"We don't have a mission." Natasha answered. "I have a mission, you do not."  
"Is... is Phil going?" Clint asked, suddenly feeling slightly replaced. Natasha laughed and shook her head.  
"No..." She answered. "Phil isn't going, I'm working with Blake."

Clint closed his eyes. He didn't like him, but he knew that Blake was a good enough handler. Stickler for the rules, but Romanoff would be safe with him. Still, Clint was a little disappointed that their team was going to be split up.

"Stupid Golub. It isn't a long mission, only a few days. And you'd hate it, it's somewhere hot and there's a load of sand." She sounded almost sorry to see him go.  
"Better than Russia." Clint protested, but he nodded. "It's alright. Just get home safe."  
"No one's managed to kill me yet." Natasha pointed out. Clint rolled his eyes, but he turned around, and wrapped his arms around her for a moment.

"I'll get home safe." Natasha answered. 

Clint wasn't sure what to make of how much that comforted him. 

He missed her once she was gone. There was no one for him to play with on the range, no one who laughed at his jokes, who called him an idiot and knew all his weaknesses and didn't judge him for them. There was still Phil of course, thank god, but that was somehow different - Phil and he were lovers, and he was his handler, and there wasn't quite the same freedom there that he felt with Natasha.

Still, he'd been promised that it was going to be a short mission, so he tried not to let it bother him.

That worked out fine until Coulson called him up from the range a few days later. His voice as he'd spoken to him had sounded serious, and Clint entered the office with none of his usual flirtatious remarks.  
"What is it sir?"  
"Agent Romanoff got into trouble. She hasn't been caught, and she completed the mission objectives, but afterwards... apparently a sand storm has knocked out their communication and tracking devices and they don't know how to find her. She’s somewhere in the desert."

Clint felt slightly sick.   
"So what now sir? We going to go and get her back?"  
"It isn't our mission." Coulson told him softly, resting a hand on his arm. "We trust the system, expect following procedure to find her, and be prepared to mount our own attempt if she isn't found within the next four hours."

Clint nodded. He didn't like it at all, but he knew the rules had been bent often enough around Agent Romanoff for Phil to become wary about doing it too often. He was comforted by the fact that if she wasn’t found soon, Phil planned to take over.  
"Alright sir."  
"And don't worry Clint. I'm already sharing my information with Agent Blake's team. We are going to get her back."  
"Thanks." Clint muttered, managing a slight grateful smile as Coulson made a phone call.

He headed back to the range, but his concentration was shot to pieces. He couldn't stand waiting. He'd never liked it. While he was on a mission he could just about cope, but the rest of the time standing around and waiting for the worst was his idea of hell.

He heard the door of the range open behind him, and notched up another arrow, breathing out before releasing it to fly into the centre of the target.  
"She's been found." Coulson said calmly, and relief flooded through Clint. He spun to face Phil, who smiled at him and shook his head slightly.  
"She's alive but injured - she fell down a gulley, and her leg is badly bruised with a possible fracture. They are bringing her back to SHIELD medical now."  
"Then we'd better be waiting." Clint answered, already putting his bow away, knowing Natasha’s relationship with medical was far from ideal. Coulson nodded, and the two of them went to wait for her.

Natasha was wheeled in thirty minutes later, trying to jerk the sedative drip from her arm and groaning slightly, her left leg a swollen mass of contusions. She saw Phil and seemed to calm, and as Clint's hand rested on her shoulder she relaxed.  
"Thank you." She murmured to him. He squeezed gently.  
"You were there for me." He answered. "Now it's our turn to be there for you. Come on, that leg needs a scan."

The scan was promptly done, and it was found that whilst it had been broken, none of the fragmented ends had moved out of alignment. With strong painkillers, a cast, and strict orders not to exert herself for a week at risk of making it far worse, she was released from medical the following day.

Clint and Phil were waiting outside medical, and Clint reached out, grabbing Natasha's bag from her. She reached out for it, stumbling along after him.  
"Hey." She glared. "I don't steal things from you when you're hurt."  
"Maybe you should." Clint shot back. Phil sighed and rubbed his head before speaking.  
"Clint isn't stealing it. He's carrying it for you. You're allowed to say no Natasha, of course you are, but I wondered if perhaps... you might like to come to stay with us while you get better. We can order takeout and watch crappy television."  
"Phil's choice." Clint pointed out. “But you can choose the takeout.”  
“I wouldn’t take the pleasure of food from you.” She answered. 

She hesitated, then nodded once, sharply. She was limping as she walked with them, but neither of them offered support, knowing she needed to do this alone. Once they got home, Phil chose what to watch and Clint picked food. Clint grinned as Natasha made herself comfortable on the couch, watching the two of them. This felt strangely like being at home.  
"You're an idiot pigeon."  
"You love me for it." He answered, handing her a drink.


End file.
